


Timing (One Shot)

by Tiggerroo99



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13112349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiggerroo99/pseuds/Tiggerroo99
Summary: It's The End of Time, but is there a friend on hand to help?





	Timing (One Shot)

Wilf watched in despair as the door clicked shut.

The radiation hit the Doctor instantly. He threw his head back as his body contorted in pain, his hands reaching out for support on the glass panels containing him. In moments he had fallen to his knees.

Wilf was lost for words.

Cries of pain rent the air, short and sharp interspersed with desperate gasps for breath, whilst the old man stood rooted to the spot, feeling every bit of his eighty two years of age. The Doctor's hand slid down the glass the sweat of his palm eeking out an additional cry.

Wilf moved towards him, but a resounding thud and the following crash distracted him from the scene before him. Turning his head, he was stunned to find a stranger walking towards him, an air of authority but urgency about his stride.

"When I give the sign, pull him out," the stranger called, not even taking a backward glance as he approached the empty glass chamber. Pulling the door open impatiently, he entered and turned to the controls switched the radiation back to his room as soon as the door clanged shut behind him.

Next door the Doctor lay crouched in his glass tomb, his cries of pain hanging in the air. Wilf's eyes darted between the two chambers. As soon as he saw the thumbs up from the stranger, he wrenched the door of the Doctor's room and, using all his strength, dragged him out.

The Doctor laid at Wilf's feet, motionless, lifeless perhaps. The other man was slumped on the floor too. Were they both dead? Wilf tugged at his hair in despair, at loss for what he should do.

Eventually after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Wilf, the Doctor turned on his back. Wilf crouched down towards him, holding out a tentative hand, not sure if he should touch him, if he would hurt him in some way.

"Doctor? Hello. Still with us?" Wilf asked with concern.

The Doctor looked at Wilf in confusion, the pain still infusing his body as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He rolled over onto his knees and took a look at the other chamber. "Jack?" he said, somewhat puzzled to see him here. Rolling back on his heels he tried to get to his feet.

"Doctor? Is it okay, then? Do you know him?" Wilf, full of questions, looked between the two men, one barely the conscious the other seemingly dead. This had been an extraordinary day, and it just seemed to be getting stranger. Rooted to the spot, he tried to rationalise what was happening.

Jack gave a gasp, and sucked a deep breath into his lungs. The great overcoat rose slowly from the floor, and the man inside swayed slightly before turning to grin at the two men outside his poisonous room. Watching the Doctor moving slowly and stiffly, looking all of his 900 years, and then some, he realised the Doctor had not fully recovered; he swung the door open and raced to his side. He must have been in time, he thought. He had programmed the vortex manipulator with precision, knowing that everything was at stake.

The Doctor got to his feet, using Jack's body as leverage and now up close, Jack could see that the Doctor had been through more than the radiation chamber. His nose was cut, his lip grazed and his face bruised in several places. The suit, his favourite suit, had been mauled and torn and hung in shreds from his body.

The Doctor stumbled as he tried to back away, not wanting to be scrutinised up close, and certainly not wanting to be treated like an invalid. Jack reached out to grab him.

"Whoa, Doc. Don't you go passing out on me!"

Jack supported the Doctor's weight, discreetly taking his pulse as he held the arm looped around his waist. The beats were double time rhythmical, although not that strong. The Doctor's pallor and beaded forehead suggested that he was still struggling.

Jack hoped he had been in time. But if he wasn't, wouldn't something be happening by now? He knew the procedure; he'd seen it before.

"Doctor?" Jack took a step back and scanned the Doctor's body, looking for any indication, even a faint orange tint.

He moved closer almost nose to nose with the Doctor. He lifted his friend's arm, held it out to one side and then let it go. "Are you going to…?"

"…regenerate?" the Doctor finished for him. "I don't know Jack, I absorbed so much…." He gasped and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Hissing through his teeth, he put up one arm palm facing out trying to ward off both Jack and Wilf who both moved forward to help him.

Wilf continued to watch the two men, puzzled as to what was going on. The Doctor clearly knew the stranger…Jack. He'd spoken to him as a friend. But was the Doctor dying? He looked in so much pain, his face screwed up in an effort to suppress whatever was consuming him.

He crouched down and gripped the Doctor's shoulder firmly, his gesture of respect and adoration receiving no rebuff this time. "You okay?" he asked. "Can I do anything?"

The Doctor looked up, his eyes full of sincerity. "I'm fine. Everything will be fine." he answered through deep ragged breaths.

"You sure, Doctor? Because you might just…?" Jack left the question unsaid.

"He might just what? I don't know what's going on here, Doctor?" Wilf turned bewildered eyes between the two of them.

The Doctor struggled to his feet. "I might just need a cup of tea, Wilf. Free radicals and tannin. Does marvels for the constitution."

Wilf broke into a broad grin. Here was something he could deal with! He wanted to hug the Doctor right there and then, but something held him back. He simply stumbled away. "Tea, we can do tea," he said. "A good cup of rosy lee. Works every time."

"You've not changed. You're still the same." Jack said, stating the obvious.

"I know. Thank you, Jack. I'm too fond of this body to give it up yet."

"But you nearly did. If I hadn't had this amazing piece of technology to find out what was going on, I could be facing a brand new Doctor. It's called TRaSH. See, driven by some cells recovered from your extra hand, it goes into alert when your molecular structure is in danger. Programmed to interact with the Vortex Manipulator it,...what?"

"Trash?" The Doctor raised his left eyebrow.

"Timelord Receptor and Sensory Handle. It really is a beauty." Jack ran his hand along the long glass tube he had retrieved from his overcoat. "It lets me know if you are in mortal danger, and likely to regenerate."

"No need to look so excited by the prospect."

"Well, you know,a change is as good as a rest," Jack said.

"But you can't deny this is the best model yet." the Doctor replied without modesty, taking a moment to staighten his tie.

Jack thought back over the years he had spent trying to track down the Doctor, the hurt he felt after the Doctor abandoned him and the joy when he first heard the sound of the TARDIS materialising in Cardiff, the feel of the vibration as the blue box trembled under his touch, as they hurled together through the Vortex followed by the slow steady rebuilding of the relationship with the Doctor.

His Doctor.

He had spent time with another version; but this version, it was special. Jack would move heaven and earth to keep the Doctor just the way he liked him.

Jack looked at the Doctor now, hair all rumpled, a frown creasing his forehead, his face cut and bruised. His teeth were gritted again in a steely determination to just get on with it. His eyes looked tired and world weary.

And yet, despite all that, he was still beautiful.

Jack knew what the Doctor was feeling, he'd been there himself. He'd faced death head on, come to terms with the knowledge that everyone makes fatal mistakes, dealt with feelings of defeat and utter uselessness. And he knew that there was no option, but to go on surviving.

Looking over the Doctor's shoulder, Jack could see the old man had amazingly, amongst all this, found a kettle.

Such a display of resourcefulness could only mean this was one of the Doctor's many companions. One in a long, long line. This one was different though, no long blonde hair, no coffee coloured skin and beautiful almond eyes, no auburn locks to match a fiery temperament. No, none of the knock-outs he'd had before. But no doubt this one had the intelligence and compassion to be with the Doctor and share his journeys. That's all it took really - the wisdom to do the right thing, faith in the Doctor and a kind heart.

Jack watched as the man walked towards him holding two mugs.

"Tea?"

"How did you do that?" Jack asked, smiling.

"Teabags, hot water, milk. It's quite simple really."

"Trust the British. The answer to everything. A good cup of tea." Jack raised his eyebrows in mockery.

"Will he be alright?" Wilf said.

"I think so, for now. As long as he has someone like you to look after him."

"I'll do my best." Wilf looked over at the Doctor, and watched him as he brushed down his brown pinstripe suit and looking woefully at the ripped shoulder. "Someone's gotta look after him, but I'm not sure if I'm the right person."

"You are most certainly the right person." Jack gave a small nod of his head in affirmation.

The Doctor watched his two companions, one old and one very new. He had overcome the prophecy. Or had he? He had sailed very close to the wind, of that he was sure. He was once again the only surviving Time Lord. It had to stay that way. He could not be so reckless in future.

Taking the mug of tea from Wilf, he felt that impish grin licking at the corners of his mouth.

"Drink up. We have date with the planet Florana. Rest and relaxation, what could possible go wrong?"


End file.
